


I'm Bad Behavior But I Do It In The Best Way

by faerie_wings



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Getting Together, Implied/Referenced Sex, Internal Monologue, Intimacy, Jaskier's ponderings on true love, M/M, Making Dead Friends, Mentioned Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Monster of the Week, Mute Jaskier | Dandelion, Not Beta Read, Not even properly mute tbh, POV Third Person, True Love, temporarily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-19 13:28:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22245139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faerie_wings/pseuds/faerie_wings
Summary: Jaskier gets captured by yet another monster - expect this time it really wasn't his fault. No, really. It'll still make an amazing song, though. And maybe something more than a song will come of it. Maybe. There will still be a song though.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 20
Kudos: 393





	I'm Bad Behavior But I Do It In The Best Way

It's not that Jaskier intentionally gets into trouble, it's just that he can't seem to be able to avoid it. It's part of his personality at this point - a trait that he can't control. And certainly not one that a Witcher could; not even Geralt of Rivia. Yes, it’s a nuisance, and it’d certainly be better if Jaskier weren’t such a trouble magnet, but there’s nothing he can do about it. Well, maybe if he settled down he would have less life-threatening trouble, but he’d still have small pesky troubles - it’s happened before.

He remembers when he was a child his mother feared that he was cursed, he remembers the fearsome eyes of the mage, kneeling in front of his small, skinny body, his face dirty and his eyes filled with fear and tears. It was a terrifying experience, Jaskier suspects that it might be part of the reason why he follows a witcher to the ends of the world and continues to follow him. 

The mage had never found anything, or, at least, not that he was aware of. Maybe he  _ does  _ attract trouble, but it’s not inherently his fault, so it doesn’t count. And anyway, this situation was  _ totally  _ Geralt’s fault. This time. Yes, he knows,  _ this time _ , but that doesn’t matter, what does matter is that he’s stuck in a cave that smells of rotten turnips and human blood, and he’s scared that his clothes will never smell the same again. (Or maybe he’s scared that they  _ will  _ smell the same - the same as the cave, that is.)

Jaskier’s been stuck here for a while. Or at least that’s what he thinks, it’s kind of hard to measure the passage of time when stuck at the back of a cave, far from any kind of sunlight and any kind of human (or non-human) companionship. At least the temperature changes, allowing him to tell that a maybe-substantial amount of time had passed, the freezing air chills the stone of the floor of the cave and sinks into his bones, reaching far past the bounds of silk and satin and skin and sinew. Gods, he’s cold. He’d begin singing to cheer himself up, but his voice is pretty wrecked from the screaming he’d been doing when he was taken by the werewolf to try and get Geralt’s attention and for him to help Jaskier. 

But whatever, he’s here, stuck until he can either unbind himself from the unnecessarily tight bonds - he’s slightly impressed of the above-average intelligence that the creature demonstrated - or he can wait until Geralt comes and saves him, which is, admittedly, more likely, anyway, this will make an  _ awesome  _ song. He begins humming to himself despite the gravelly texture of his vocal cords that he’s scared he’s irreparably damaged.  _ And so the humble bard, was captured, tied and wrought, the creature snarled its grief, and the witcher his sword did sheaf, for quiet he needed on his side, and the beast he warily eyed…  _ not bad, actually. He’ll make an epic ballad out of this misadventure yet. 

The sounds of grunting and magical swords being swung (a sort of shewsh sound) reach Jaskier inside the cave along with the other occupants who are dead and whom Jaskier has named Jacek and Jadwiga - and maybe there’s a Jakub somewhere there, he can’t really tell from this far away - and yes, he was inspired by his name, after all, there’s no one better than Jaskier himself. 

He prepares himself for a valiant rescue by a handsome witcher, mentally apologising to Jacek, Jadwiga and maybe-Jakub for leaving them behind for a more-living companion. He tries to brush lint down from his tunic (his doublet was lost some time when he was screaming) despite his bound hands, and clears his throat, forgetting for a moment about his protesting throat and delving into an excruciating coughing fit that lasts for maybe ten minutes (yes, he’s exaggerating, he’s a  _ bard _ , was anyone expecting anything else?) Before he can begin to get to grips with reality; which curiously now includes a surly witcher raising an eyebrow in his direction - or at least Jaskier thinks it was an eyebrow, he’s absolutely  _ covered  _ in blood, which, that’s fair, he’s just killed a werewolf to save Jaskier, and if this isn’t true love, then he doesn’t know what is. 

“Get up,” ah, his witcher has such a dreamily husky voice, Geralt really is Jaskier’s perfect man, and Jaskier is Geralt’s perfect man, even if he doesn’t yet realise it. He realises that he’s drifted off again when his witcher has to repeat himself and Jaskier just raises a (visible) eyebrow while shaking his bound hands in front of him, as if to say,  _ “Well, I would, but you see, I seem to have my hands bound, could you  _ believe  _ that?”  _ Well, that’s what he’s thinking, he hopes that he’s communicating it simply enough that Geralt can understand what he’s gesticulating. 

Geralt rolls his eyes petulantly (he’s going to be  _ so dead  _ when Geralt realises what adverbs he uses to describe him) and gestures impatiently, prompting a soundless groan from Jaskier, who lumbers to his feet, his bound hands not helping the situation, and waits patiently for Geralt to cut the rope binding his hands together - he’s kind of indisposed when it comes to actually  _ speaking  _ to the witcher. He gains another raised eyebrow at Jaskier’s peculiar silence, which Jaskier responds to with yet another impatient look in Geralt’s direction.

He mentally waves goodbye to Jacek, Jadwiga and what he now knows-to-be-Jakub, suspecting that if he actually waved to the corpses in the cave he’d gain more than a funny look from Geralt - probably a visit to a healer, or worse,  _ Yennefer _ . On the other hand, it’d be nice to gain a little concern from Geralt every once-in-a-while. After all, he’s been trying to make the Witcher aware of his humanity for nearly ten years now and he’s been marginally successful. Marginally. Though, considering how much of that time he’s actually spent in Geralt’s company he’s been more than marginally successful, more like nearly done making Geralt aware of his feelings for Jaskier. Because the Witcher does love him, he just doesn’t know yet. Maybe this will make him realise. 

He walks silently behind-and-slightly-to-the-left of his witcher, trying to communicate his experience being kidnapped and brutally tortured using only gesticulations and “hmm”’s, he thinks Geralt should appreciate those, and, once he gets his lute back, he begins composing his epic ballad, interjecting with a musical interlude every now and again to demonstrate how he was lost and voiceless to the mercy of the hulking beast and creature of the night. Clever, right? He certainly thinks so. He thinks Geralt does too, considering how he sometimes responds to his storytelling with occasional “hmm”’s as well as a few bizarre facial expressions. Jaskier’s holding onto the hope of what those facial expressions mean.

Night falls once more, and Jaskier’s voice still hasn’t returned, but, to be fair, he hasn’t been in ideal conditions productive to cultivating a honey-sweet voice like his. He settles beside the fire as Geralt casts  _ Igni  _ to light up the wood Jaskier was tasked with gathering - how Jaskier wishes he could do that instead of struggling with flint for fifteen minutes, managing only the barest of sparks, before giving up. He watches as Geralt cooks the hare he managed to catch before the sun set beneath the horizon - his hands are sure and confident, and Jaskier lets himself imagine the way Geralt would handle himself (and him) during sex - it’s an unbearably hot image, and Jaskier quickly changes his mental subject. Yes, he talks to himself in his head (sometimes not only in his head), what of it?

He places his lute beside him, allowing himself to relax and be quiet for once, admiring the beauty of the night without feeling the need to fill the silence. He thinks that maybe  _ this  _ is true love, the comfortable silence between friends, the silent bond between lovers, the unspoken love between Witcher and bard. He feels Geralt settle in beside him, turning to see him gazing at him with something that looks a lot like  _ love  _ in his eyes, and Jaskier glances down at his lips, before returning to his eyes, the amber in them warming a tone at his silent question. 

He gently slots their lips together, their breathing slow and calm, and it’s not passionate, or burning hot, it’s just perfect, full of love and care. The kiss doesn’t pick up speed, nor does it end, it just continues, their eyes closed, and it’s like Geralt is breathing life into him, and he suspects that he’s doing the same for Geralt. It’s like they’ve been together forever - a kiss brimming with both familiarity and curiosity - and Jaskier thinks that he could do this forever.

When they eventually break apart it’s to rest their foreheads together and catch their breath and Jaskier whispers, “Finally, if I knew all it took was me being quiet, I would have done it ages ago,” and Geralt laughs slightly, his eyes crinkling minutely at the edges, and Jaskier would do anything to keep that expression on his face, to keep his beautiful witcher happy. He’ll give him anything and everything, and Geralt will do the same, he knows. 

It feels a lot like true love. 

**Author's Note:**

> This comes from me being entirely sick of fics that present love as just physical attraction - thus, this fic was born.
> 
> Title from "Immortals" by Fall Out Boy


End file.
